


15 Days

by asiacheetah



Category: La Femme Nikita
Genre: F/M, Spoilers for end of Season 4
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-27
Updated: 2016-12-14
Packaged: 2018-08-17 13:33:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 18,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8145898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asiacheetah/pseuds/asiacheetah
Summary: Story about Season 4 Toys in the Basement and the subsequent time off Michael and Nikita spends together. Use of original dialogue throughout and contain spoilers for the episode Toys in the Basement.





	1. Failed Mission

**Author's Note:**

> This was first posted in 2011. I will be posting the chapters based on the episode first and then upload the following days regularly.

Michael scanned the bookstore cataloging the few customers there as Nikita approached the saleswoman.

Woman: "Excuse me? Can I help you?"

Nikita: "I want your database."

Woman: "Look I don't know what you think you'll find here. We're just a…"

Nikita: "I wasn't asking."

Woman: "Okay, alright."

He noticed one of the customers was paying too particular of attention to the conversation. His suspicion was confirmed when he pulled out a gun. He quickly took him out as he scanned the remaining people to ensure no further resistance.

His Comm piece crackled on as Quinn reported: "Michael, hostile converging from the south quadrant."

He glanced back to Nikita and the sales clerk as she reached for a gun. Nikita shoots her and yelled out: "Michael go!"

He ducks to avoid gunfire as they left the store. "I need a location on Nikita."

Quinn: "She's just behind you Michael. I'm getting an elevation reading."

He used the storm drainage pipes to climb up to the stairs in time to see a guy take aim at Nikita and shoots. He shoots at the guy, but it was too late as he watched Nikita disappear from view off the building. He kept his voice as calm as possible as he asked: "Nikita's location?"

Quinn: "She's on the ground Michael. Sixteen meters SSE. You're going to have to make a ground approach."

He climbed down to the street level and made his way around the building to the back. To his horror all he found was some blood on the ground.

*****

The ride back to Section was long and filled with unbearable silence. Chatter on the transport was minimal as all the team members avoided his glance. He kept the rising panic at bay by separating his emotion and focusing on completing the mission debrief. He knew if he thought about what might have happened to Nikita, he would slowly unravel and would be of no use to help her. She needed him functioning and at his best in order to save her, especially if she had been taken by Bright Star operatives.

The mission debrief was difficult to sit through. Operations has been waiting for a chance to write Nikita off for years and now he's getting his chance.

Quinn: "Housekeeping found this. It's a thermal block. We knew that Bright Star had the technology to block our RNR block scans…but not this. This is why we couldn't see them until they left the room."

Michael: "What's the status on Nikita?"

Operations: "Nikita's implant went off a few minutes after we lost our visual on her."

Michael: "Last known location?"

Quinn: "2 blocks from where she fell. She's off the board."

Operations: "Quinn isolated another Bright Star substation in Romaine. Now since they mirror their database information, of course the network will assemble a storm team and attempt to acquire the personnel database we lost. It is essential that we obtain this information in the next 72 hours. There will be severe repercussions if we can't."

Michael: "Nikita has the disk."

Operations: "Your mission is now listed as aborted Michael. We consider the database information you acquired on premises unobtainable. We've had no contact with her for 6 hours. Per procedure, she'll be listed as killed in action."

Instead of a clean death, Operations would leave Nikita lingering as a captive by Bright Star. This scenario was too close to what happened with Simone that it took all his control not to leap out of the chair and strangle Operations with his bare hands. The only thing that stopped him was that Nikita needed him alive and not confined in order to find her.


	2. Day Zero

Nikita slowly regained consciousness. There was a burning ache on her side from the bullet wound and various aches and bruises from the fall off the roof. She could hear the sound of water dripping, which made her frown in confusion since she doesn't typically hear that in the sterile environment of the med lab. Her eyes snapped opened when she heard the sound of a cat meowing.

Where the hell am I? She thought to herself. There were various wounded animals in cages throughout the room. There were wooden beams and masonry walls around her. It looked like she was in a basement, which begs the question again: where the hell am I?

A door opened in the roof and a ladder was lowered. A skinny man entered the room rather clumsily and walked to where she laid on the bed. He reached out to touch her, but she grabbed his hand to stop him.

The man said with a southern sounding accent: "You're alive."

Nikita: "Where am I?"

"You know you wouldn't be if it weren't for me. Alive that is. It wasn't easy getting that bullet out of you."

"Thank you."

"Mother always said that if you're going to be good at anything you better resolve yourself to practice."

"Who are you?"

"I'm a doctor."

She flinched back slightly as the man leaned down and sniffed her. He continued: "You smell a lot nicer than most of my patients."

She looked around at the cages filled with wounded animals again and looked back cautiously at the man. She pleaded as nicely as she could: "Do you think you can take these handcuffs off of me?"

The man laughed, like a patronizing parent to a child and responded: "I like that. The patient telling the doctor what to do. Um, I'll make those decisions if it's all right with you."

He's as much a doctor as she was a concert pianist. It was obvious that this man was seriously deluded and had to be handled with care. "I appreciate everything you've done for me."

"I will take very good care of you."

She watched as he filled a syringe as he continued: "Very safe here."

Safe from what she wondered. "What's your name?"

"Henry Paul Collins. What's yours?"

"Nikita."

"Nikita. Very pretty name Nikita. You want to know a secret? Besides my mother, you're the first girl I've ever well, uh um, been able to talk to."

She couldn't suppress her moan of pain when Henry injected her with the needle, his obvious lack of practice on a human patient evident.

Henry continued creepily: "No one as smart and pretty like you."

Whatever was in the syringe was making her drowsy. She vaguely felt him touching her and cringed with revulsion as he ran his tongue up her stomach. She fought to stay conscious as long as she could, but it was a battle she couldn't win.

*****

Michael had been doing periodic scans for Nikita's implant signals for hours as he worked with every contact in the northern hemisphere trying to pick up chatters of anyone abducting a Section agent. So far his search had came up with nothing. No clues of her whereabouts. With each hour passing, the chances of Nikita still being alive grew slimmer. He had to keep hope alive though, or he will break down and crumble into nothingness.

He looked up as Operations stormed into the room.

Operations: "You're aware of the procedure Michael. Did you expect we would make an exception for Nikita?"

"No."

"Then you know you have a job to do and you are expected to do it. If you have to grieve then do it on your own time."

"You owe me 15 days." He watched his words take effect as Operations' eyes widened at the reminder. "For helping your friend." It was a subtle reminder that Operations wasn't above making exceptions to the rules for his own purpose.

"Yes I did promise you that."

"I'd like to take them now."

"All right Michael. You do what you've got to do but you're on your own. If I find out you employed any Section resources, put a drain on our manpower, I will act accordingly."

"I understand."

He understood Operations' threats. What Operations' failed to realize that if he didn't do everything in his power to retrieve Nikita and ensure her safety, no amount of threats will matter to him. Failure truly wasn't an option for him, for his sanity or for his continued existence.


	3. Day 1

Nikita had been working on the handcuffs for hours, trying to figure out a way to get free and out of this basement of horror. She heard footsteps above her and smoothed out her hair and clothes to try to appear harmless as the trap door opened. Henry walked down the stairs with a cake with lit candles on it. She watched as he blew out the candles and looked at her in glee.

"You know what I wished for?"

She tried keeping her voice as even and conciliatory as possible: "What did you wish for Henry?"

"Nothing. Absolutely nothing. I finally think I've got everything I've always wanted. Right here."

His answer almost made her sick. She swallowed the sharp retort and responded cajolingly: "You care about me?"

"Oh, you're very special Nikita. Haven't I proven that by saving your life?"

"But I don't understand why you're keeping me down here with handcuffs. You don't want me to feel like a prisoner do you?"

"No, you're not nearly well enough to get out of bed and start running around. You'll catch your death."

"I'll take your advice Henry and even if you took the handcuffs off I…if you said I should stay in bed I will stay."

"It doesn't really matter that much does it? You know, mother baked this cake herself. I think she is getting rather jealous that I brought the rest of it down here. She thinks I spend too much time down here."

His words sparked the hope of rescue. "Does she know about me? Does she know I'm down here?"

"Truth is I think she is getting a little too attached to me. Oh well, I suppose it's better than not being loved at all."

Henry shoved too large of a piece of cake in her mouth and it was all she could do not to gag on the cake and choke. She finally managed to swallow the piece before asking: "She sounds like she's really very nice, your mother. I'd like to meet her."

"I'm sure you would. You see, I knew you were smart."

"Henry, I need something to drink. Some water."

She was interrupted by a noise upstairs. Henry stood up in agitation while muttering: "Mother, one of these days she's going to push me too far. Be a good girl and drink your milk."

She glanced around and noticed Henry had left the fork on the plate. She grabbed it and quickly unlocked the handcuffs. Her legs were weak and her side was burning as she slowly made her way to a pipe with running water. She drank greedily at the water, thankful to ingest something that wasn't laced with sedatives.

She didn't have nearly enough when she heard footsteps above her again. She hurried as fast as the pain would allow and climbed back to bed. She smoothed the covers and hid the fork under her pillow as she secured herself with the hated handcuffs once again.

Henry came down the stairs with a pail and said awkwardly: "Forgive me for being rude. I forgot to say goodnight. Mother said you might need this."

As soon as he left, she freed herself again and made her way back to the pipe for more water, trying to regain her strength in order to leave.

*****

Michael made his way back to the mission site to the alley where Nikita was last seen. He glanced around at the area and noticed recent rain had washed away all trace of her. He noticed a security camera on one of the building facing the alley, Braemar Insurance. He walked inside and was met by one of the insurance agents.

"Oh hi. Can I help you?"

"Hi."

He quickly injects her with a strong sedative. When she was unconscious, he moved her to another room and secured her out of sight. He found the security room and brought up tapes from the day before. He scroll the tape to the time of the failed mission and saw a car approach the alleyway and leave. He noted the license plate number and left as quietly as he came.

*****

The house has been quiet for a while. Nikita had heard the front door open and hoped that meant she was alone. She moved some crates toward the trap door, pausing to regain her strength as the movement pulled at the stitches on her side. She climbed on top and tried to open the door, but it wouldn't budge.

She weakly stumbled around the dark basement, looking for a flash light, light switch, anything to illuminate the room. She found some candles near the cages, lit it, and began to work her way around the exterior walls. The candle flame flickered at a spot and she pushed against the board there. After working it for a few minutes, she managed to pry the board down to find a small window.

All of the sudden, the head of dog appeared, startling her as it starts barking. The dog disappeared from view and Henry's face appeared, making her cringe back in horror.

Henry: "Nikita…"

Henry disappeared from view and she looked desperately around for something to use as a weapon. All too soon, the trap door open, ladder lowered, and Henry run down the stairs. She fought him as best she could, but weakness from her injuries and from the sedatives, made her strikes ineffectual. She couldn't stop Henry, as he plunged a needle and injected her with a sedative. She plunged into unconsciousness as Henry muttered about what a bad girl she was.


	4. Day 2

Michael's abrupt return from his down time was met by a few raised brows, and speculative looks at his attire of leather jacket and pants instead of his customary black suit. He ignored the glances and made his way to Comm where Jason was busy sexually harassing Quinn. He spared a brief thought about how different Jason was from his twin. Hopefully, some things are still the same, and Jason would prove willing to help Nikita like his brother did before him.

Jason caught his glance and temporarily gave up his pursuit of the tall brunette and walked toward him. He stated without preamble: "I need a DMV trace."

"No can do Michael. You know the drill." Jason looked in the direction of Quinn rolling his eyes behind her back and then motioned Michael to follow him. "Trust me pal, I've been there, done that. Forget it. You know the iceberg that sunk the Titanic? An amateur. Really. What do you need?"

He had a hard time following all the various colloquialism Jason was spitting out. He handed a sheet of paper to Jason with the license plate number on it and repeated: "I need a DMV trace."

*****

Nikita slowly came awake with a pounding headache and new aches and bruises from her latest botched escape attempt. She looked around, being careful not to move her head too much, and noticed Henry blocking the window with blocks and cement. She felt under the pillow for the fork she had hidden there and found to her despair it missing.

Henry finished his home improvement project and moved toward her with a stern look. He lectured to her: "No good deed goes unpunished. Always trying to pound that into me, but I always resisted. I guess mother knows best. Nikita, you and I are friends now and we should treat each other like friends."

She watched in dread as Henry poured milk through a funnel into an IV bag. She was starting to get extremely concerned with her chance of living at the care of this nut case.

"You really do need your milk." She cringed back into the mattress as Henry prepped her arm for the needle. "You are so beautiful Nikita, so very beautiful."

She moaned in pain as Henry inserted the needle and started the drip. She watched in horror as the milk made its way down the tube and into her arm. A burning pain started at the location and spread throughout her body. She concentrated on keeping her breath even in order not to give in to a panic attack. She turned her mind away from the pain and focused on her touchstone, Michael.

She concentrated on various memories of Michael. The way he looked that morning in her bed when they decided to pursue a relationship, the heartbreak in his eyes when she was brain washed to stop caring for him, the light shining on his beloved face through the fabric of the hyperbaric chamber when he brought her back to herself.

She focused on those memories and barely heard Henry's last words: "Won't mother be happy when she learns of our surprise."


	5. Day 3

Nikita woke in a drug induced fog, her entire body aching, an aftermath of having milk introduced directly into her blood stream. She found her vision was obstructed by an opaque material. She looked down in confusion and found to her horror that she was in a wedding gown.

"Oh my God!"

She had to focus on how to get out of this situation without being forced to marry a lunatic and being chained down in the basement for the rest of her life. She was still too weak to overpower him. Unbidden Madeline's voice echoed in her mind: "You can learn to shoot. You can learn to fight. But there's no weapon as powerful as your femininity." She knew Henry desired her and wants her. She'll use that knowledge as leverage against him.

Henry came downstairs an hour later with a little bouquet of flowers. "It's going to be small but it doesn't mean we can't do it right. I think it really does something for the room don't you?"

She looked at Henry, willing him to meet her gaze. "Henry. Henry? Come here. Sit down. Sit down."

Henry perched uneasily at the edge of the bed. His eyes flitted around the room, meeting hers briefly before skidding away. "Very excited about all this."

She prodded gently: "Haven't you forgotten something?"

Henry looked perplexed: "Forgotten something? Well uh…I've got the decorations, the uh, the wedding cake. We're both here. No, no I don't uh, no I don't think I left anything out."

She said gently: "You never asked me how I feel about all this."

Henry's gaze hardened as he offered up his justification: "I saved your life Nikita. I've taken excellent care of you. I can't think of any reason why…"

She cut him off: "Then you really don't know anything about women then do you Henry? Even if a girl is going to say yes, she likes to be asked."

"If I ask, you promise to say yes?"

"That's cheating."

Henry jumped up and paced the room, not meeting her gaze. Finally he asked: "Nikita will you marry me?"

He still wouldn't meet her gaze so she asked cajolingly: "Henry look at me. Look at me, come back and sit down."

Henry padded awkwardly toward the bed, looking like a lost boy. "You promised."

"Henry, take the handcuffs off."

"You know I can't do that."

"If you cared about me…"

Henry shook his head vehemently: "Oh Nikita please…that's a broken record…If you cared about me? If I unlock those handcuffs now, you're going to try and run for the road." 

It was imperative that she gets Henry to trust her in order to make her escape. She said in a conciliatory tone: "Henry, I'm sorry. You're right, but that was before you asked me to marry you. It's different now."

Hope glinted in his eyes as he asked: "What? What's so…what's so different now?"

She pleaded with as much pretend need for closeness as she was capable of: "I'm all tied up like this. I can't even touch you." At Henry's needing look, she added a seductive purr to her words: "Henry, I want to know what you feel like."

Henry first looked at her with need before turning indignant. He jumped up and said with loathing: "You sound like a whore Nikita. Never marry a whore."

She watched as he stormed off, sighing in frustration at her failure. She'll have to think of another tactic to get free of this mad man.

*****

After sulking for about half an hour, Henry returned with the same cake that was rapidly becoming stale. Since this was the only food she's been given over the last few days, she ate it greedily. They were interrupted by the sound of a van pulling up the driveway. Henry left quickly to meet the visitor.

She listened intently to the exchange. The visitor identified himself as a utility worker there to read the electric meter. She cast her eyes about and noticed the meter on the far side of the room, meaning the visitor would have to come down to the basement. A flicker of hope starts burning as the man rebukes Henry's efforts to head him off by rescheduling the reading.

The door opened and the stairs were drawn down. The man entered the basement, seemingly alone, and looked around letting his eyes adjust to the dim light. He had just seen her chained to the bed when a shot rang out and the man pitched backwards against the wall. She looked up in shock and saw Henry standing at the top of the stairs with a smoking gun in his hands. He turned around without another word and the ladder was raised once more.

She cast her eyes desperately around the room and found that Henry had accidently left the fork again. She freed herself quickly and made her way to the trap door. Henry had been too rattled by killing the man to remember to lock the door and she managed to lower the stairs. She climbed up the stairs and met the startled eyes of a middle age woman with a strong resemblance to Henry.

"What are you doing down there?"

"Mrs. Collins? Can you help me?"

The woman grins, with the same maniacal smile of Henry's and pushed her down the stairs. The impact of the fall against her barely healing bullet wound blinded her in pain and she blacked out.


	6. Day 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The wedding from hell

The woman was just as delusional as her son. No matter how she pleaded with Mrs. Collins, even using the threat to Henry's life due to her presence held no sway on the woman. She just continued applying make-up on her face to make her pretty for her precious son for the wedding. She knew she couldn't gain her freedom through the woman who Mrs. Collins went over the where the dead man lay and started applying makeup on him as well.

 

This is a nightmare. She had died during the mission to retrieve the Bright Star database and has landed in hell. How else to explain the situation she was in.

She stood unsteadily on her feet, her hands cuffed in front of her, as Mrs. Collins starts playing the wedding march. In this bizarre world, Henry is the one walking down the aisle instead of the bride. Henry walked shyly toward her in a hideous 70s suit that obviously once belonged to his father.

"You look beautiful."

She listened numbly as Mrs. Collins recited the vow. No sooner did Henry promise to marry her until death do they part, a shot rang out and a bullet hole appeared in the middle of his forehead. When she turned back toward Mrs. Collins she found she had also been shot. She watched wearily as several armed men entered the basement.

One of the men walked toward her and demanded: "Where's the disk?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

The slap in rebuke was no worse than the ordeal she's just been through for too many days to count.

Her vision was graying around the edges, as the noose around her neck slowly choked the life from her. It was ironic that after surviving a pair of lunatics, she will now die at the hands of the people she took the stolen disc from. Her only regret was that she couldn't see Michael one last time before she died.

The pressure against her throat suddenly eased as she dropped down to the floor. She looked up to find Michael was there, looking worried and relieved. He gently removed the noose from her throat and lifted her into his arms.

Finally safe for the first time in days, she looked around at the dead terrorists and the lack of other footsteps. "Oh you should have had backup. You had no way of knowing if I was going to be all right. What if this had been a Bright Star sub-station? Hmmm? You wouldn't have made it out of here."

Michael held her tighter in his arms and softly replied: "If you weren't alive, it wouldn't have mattered."

She closed her eyes and gave thank to whoever listening for answering her need to see Michael again.


	7. Day 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally, the start of their time off from Section.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is where it veers from episode to how I thought the two spent their time off together.

Nikita woke up, clear headed for the first time in five days, after all the sedatives she's been given had finally worn off. She stretched gingerly taking note that pain from various aches and bruises were minor. She pulled back the sleeping bag cover and checked her wound. Michael had placed a clean bandage on the wound while she slept and it was healing nicely, clear of infection.

She looked around the tent to get her bearing and noticed the brightness from the sunlight outside, indicating how late in the day it was. She unzipped the tent to step outside and took a look around. The sun was high in the sky, denoting that she had slept for a long time. There was a cheerful fire burning in the camp fire with a water pot boiling on top of it.

She glanced around, but couldn't find Michael. His bike was still there so he was still around. She could hear the sound of a river nearby, but could hear no other noise, not even vehicular traffic. She recalled traveling on a dirt road for a long stretch before Michael had stopped for the night.

The sound of a twig snapping caught her attention and she glanced toward the noise. Michael appeared in the clearing with an armful of firewood. He scanned her intently for a moment, most likely checking to see if she should be on her feet.

As if answering her speculation, Michael said softly: "You should be resting."

"I was just looking for you."

"I'm heating up some water, if you want to wash up."

She'd kill for a shower right now, but since they were in the middle of the woods, this will have to do. She smiled in thanks as she answered: "Yes, I'd love that."

Michael mixed the hot water on the fire with some cold water in the bucket and placed it in the tent. He dug out a clean set of clothes, soap and towel and handed it to her. "Sorry, I didn't have much time to grab your things."

She leaned in and kissed him quickly in thanks and replied: "Don't be." She ducked into the tent and did her best to clean up. She emerged a few minutes later, feeling more refreshed, but extremely tired from that little bit of activity.

Michael was boiling more water and glanced up when she reemerged. "I can wash your hair if you like."

If she had more energy, she would have jumped on him in thanks for his offer. She replied enthusiastically: "Yes please!"

He smiled slightly at her eagerness and pointed at a blanket spread on the ground. "I'm going to go get more water."

She nodded in response as he retrieved the water bucket from the tent and disappeared from view toward the sound of the nearby river. She didn't have to wait long before he returned. He mixed in hot water again and took a seat on a log behind her.

She leaned back in delight and Michael gently washed her hair and massaged her scalp. She couldn't suppress several moans of bliss that escaped from her lips. She could have sworn she heard Michael softly chuckling, but figured she was still suffering from the drugs she's been given.

She watched the flames dance merrily in the camp fire as Michael brushed her hair and worked out the tangles. She leaned back every brush stroke, enjoying Michael's gentle touch. Finally, all the tangles were smoothed and Michael laid down the comb to softly caress her face.

"How long before we have to get back?"

"I requested the time off Operations promised us. We have 10 more days."

She tilted her head back to look up at the man she loved, loved with such intensity that it sometimes scared her. He met her gaze calmly with no expectations or demands. She brushed his beloved hand against her cheek and rubbed against it before turning her head and kissed it. They both turned their gaze back to the camp fire, silently appreciating this time alone, away from Section.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll post the next chapters periodically (maybe a chapter a week or more frequently).


	8. Day 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nikita learns something new about Michael.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A new chapter for the weekend. I hope you like it.
> 
> Minor spoiler for end of Season 4.

"What's in this?" Nikita ravenously devoured a large plate of the tasty food Michael made.

"Potatoes, onions, and ground pork."

"It's delicious!" She almost started licking her plate. Michael took the plate from her and piled more of the savory goodness on it. She fairly snatched it from him and started eating with gusto. She talked through a mouth full of food: "Does it have a name?"

"Hobo meal."

She almost choked on the food. After coughing for a few minutes, she looked up with watery eyes and asked: "Hobo meal?"

He shrugged: "That's just what it's called."

"Why?"

"I guess it's because it's cheap to make."

"Where did you learn to make this?"

Michael looked uncomfortable before replying: "The French version of Boy Scouts."

Nikita could only stare at him, bug eyed in disbelief. "You were in the Boy Scouts?"

"No. They don't have Boy Scouts in France."

Michael was making a show of gathering the dirty plates and cleaning up the meal. The very fact that he was moving more than normal without his usual economy of movement tells her that he had just given her a piece of personal information that he didn't normally divulge. The fact that he was acting embarrassed was so adorable that she couldn't resist the urge to tease him.

"I guess you still go by the Boy Scout motto of always being prepared. I was wondering how you can always think of every contingency."

He glanced up in surprise and met her mischievous look. He gifted her with one of his rare smiles that lights up his eyes and transforms his face to a thing of beauty. She could only stare wordlessly, vaguely registering that her mouth was open.

"Are you done?"

She repeated blankly: "Done with?"

Michael indicated toward her plate and she snap back to attention: "Um…yes, thank you."

He took the plate from her and washed it out before securing the trash and disappeared from view. She sat staring at the fire while she waited for him to rejoin her. She thought over the day's event and how relaxed they were around each other.

She had fell asleep the night before wrapped in Michael's arm, surrounded by his warmth and that spicy masculine scent that belong only to him. The feeling of contentment wrapped in his arms remained with her long after she woke up the next day. After breakfast they had taken a short walk to take in the sights and for her to stretch out her unused muscles. Even that short of a walk had tired her out and she had taken a nap when they returned to camp.

When she woke up, Michael had returned from obtaining supplies from a nearby town. He had asked if she wanted to check into a local bed and breakfast in town. For reasons she couldn't explain, she had been reluctant to leave this camp site, fearing the magical feeling of closeness would disappear. She knew it was impractical to stay there for the rest of the time though, so she deferred until the next day to go into town. Which is why she's sitting by the camp fire, belly full after benefiting from Michael's excellent cooking.

The contentment she was feeling gradually faded as she realized that Operations has once again tried to leave her for dead. If it wasn't for Michael, this time and so many other times in the past, she would be dead. One day her luck would run out, or Michael won't be able to prevent it, she may die.

What would that do to Michael then? She remembered his words back at Henry's house after he had single handedly taken out the Bright Star operatives. "If you weren't alive, it wouldn't have mattered."

It was a scary prospect, being the reason for living for someone else, especially since she was such an unworthy recipient of that love. Tears pooled in her eyes unbidden at the thought of Michael's reaction when he finds out she had betrayed him for so many years. Would he cease to care about his life once again?

No matter the outcome of her undercover mission, she had to make sure Michael survives and be set free. His survival would mean she would get to live on as well vicariously. Even if in the end that means they couldn't be together. She wiped the tears away, determined to treasure this short time they have together. She will need the memories they make to last her a life time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hobo meal is a real dish and it's delicious. I don't know if France actually have a similar version to Boy Scouts. Just play along with it lol.


	9. Day 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nikita gets a bit territorial regarding a certain FINE French man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since I'll be unable to upload for the next two weeks, you get TWO chapters this week.

"What do you want to do for the rest of the down time?"

Nikita looked up from her spicy seafood gumbo and looked at her dinner companion. She still wasn't used to how relaxed Michael looked away from Section. For one thing, he wasn't wearing black head to toe. He had on a short sleeved dark gray v-neck shirt, leather jacket, and jeans. Jeans that hugged every curve and made it impossible for her to concentrate any time she caught sight of it when he turned around. She found herself intentionally walking a few paces behind him the whole day while they took in the sights around the city of Shawnee, Oklahoma just so she could stare at him. He had turned around and caught her staring one time, but didn't respond except for a raised eyebrow.

They had driven in that morning and checked into a local Bed and Breakfast. It reminded her of the place they stayed at in Dingman's Hollow and their intimate discussion about their hopes and dreams. It was unbelievable to her that they get to live out part of her fantasy now. After a long hot shower and a meal at a diner that thankfully served more than just fried food, they spent the day strolling through the main streets and window shopping. They had purchased a few more changes of clothes. She had even convinced Michael to get a moss green shirt that would compliment his eyes.

She smiled remembering the reaction from the sales clerk. As soon as they step through the door, the sales woman had flirted shamelessly at Michael, being extra solicitous. It didn't seem to matter to her that Michael was with another woman. While she was in the dressing room, she overheard the sales woman's increasingly determined seduction attempt and Michael's bland terse responses. She finally whipped the curtains open, clad only in bra and panties and sweetly asked Michael to come 'assist' her.

Nikita gave the sales woman a 'hands off he's mine' look as Michael obligingly stepped into the cramped dressing area. She shot a cat ate the canary grin before closing the curtain to the clerk's jealous gaze. She backed Michael against the mirror and pulled him close for a thorough kiss. She laid her claim on him then through deep kisses and nibbling his lips.

When they finally pulled apart, both breathing a bit more rapidly, the corner of his lips turned up while he asked: "What was that for?"

"Just telling that woman you're mine."

He challenged with a trace of humor: "Am I?"

She responded by drawing his head down toward her and kissing him again. He had the last laugh though as he backed her against the wall and kissing her senseless. She gasped in breath as she stared at him dumbly.

"I'll let you get dressed."

"Dressed?"

He looked pointed down her torso, prompting her to look down as well. She found, to her embarrassment, that she had forgotten she was still only in her underwear. He glided out of the dressing room, but not before giving her a rare smile at the sight of her reddened face.

"Nikita?"

She snapped back to attention and realized that she had probably been staring at Michael with what was most likely a love-struck expression. She stammered in response: "W..what?"

"I asked what you wanted to do for the rest of the down time."

"Um…I don't know." A thought occurred to her as she replied: "How far are we to New Orleans?"

"Not that far."

"Can we go there? I've never been there before and always wanted to see it."

"Sure, after you have more time to rest."

She replied excitedly: "I'm fine, let's go tomorrow!"

"You need to time to heal and recuperate from your ordeal."

"Can we go the day after?"

"If you've healed enough…"

She grabbed another spoonful of Gumbo and chewed while looking at Michael disgruntled: "That's rich, coming from a man who refuses to stay in med lab unless he's being forced to."

Michael's eyebrows shot up and amusement gleamed in his eyes. "I'm a fast healer."

"What about lead by example, Michael?"

"That's never stopped you before."

She sputtered in indignation: "What?" 

Michael resorted to bribery: "Be good and you can get dessert."

She perked up: "Dessert? What's good here?"

"The Key Lime pie looked good."

"Yeah!" She waved at her waitress: "I like 2 slices of Key Lime pie and a coffee." She turned to Michael and asked: "What do you want for dessert."

He gifted her with a genuine smile of amusement, causing all her neuro-network to short circuit and robs her of the power of speech


	10. Day 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael and Nikita gets closer.

Nikita closed her eyes in ecstasy as Michael ran a comb through her hair. After experiencing this for the second time in 3 days, she found that this was her second favorite pastime of all time. Unfortunately, she was still a bit too sore and injured to indulge in her favorite activity.

She opened her eyes to look at her lover in the mirror. Michael's attention was focused on the golden strands, making sure to smooth out all the tangles while taking care not to hurt her in the process. Despite how deadly he was capable of, he was always so gentle when he was with her. She studied him intently noting the fine lines around his eyes that weren't there when she first saw him in that white room. His face has filled in with so much character, all the youthfulness burned away to sheer masculine beauty.

When she first saw him, she thought it the biggest injustice in the world that he would be gifted with the face of an angel while being a devil in disguise. She had been blinded by resentment and anger of the situation she was in, having been forced into indentured servitude. It didn't occur to her until much later to ponder what he might have been like before Section.

She must have glimpsed what Michael could have been like when he lost his memories after being abducted by Perez. It still made her ache with pain and regret to remember what he was like: so innocent, gentle and sweet. No matter what could have been Michael has been irreversibly shaped by Section and what he had to do to survive.

Despite all the manipulations Section put him through, at his core Michael was an honorable, gentle, and above all a loving man. His training doesn't allow him to show affection openly or to verbally communicate his love, but he showed it none the less with everything he does. It's no wonder she has fallen so deeply and irrevocably in love against her better judgments and against her own survival instincts.

"What were you like before Section?" No sooner had she blurted out the question, she wanted to hit herself in the head for breaking this moment of contentment.

He looked up, startled at the question and mulled over it thoughtfully. "I was young."

"That doesn't tell me what you were like."

He paused for a long while as he continued brushing her hair before answering: "Before my parents died I was…unaware and…unconscious of what a charmed life I led."

"What do you mean?"

"I took the love of my family for granted and didn't realize it until too late."

"You said you were angry when you met Renee. Why were you so angry?"

He thought about her question for a long time before responding: "I was angry at how my sister and I were treated. Due to the government red tape, I couldn't provide for my sister adequately while going to the university."

She thought sadly at how a single event could rip apart a family and permanently change to lives of all those impacted. "What were you like when you first got to Section? Were you like me frightened and angry?"

His gaze met hers in the mirror and the corner of his lips curved up as he goaded: "Not to mention defiant, obstinate, unable to obey a single command, and a complete brat."

"Hey!"

"You were, bar none, the single worse recruit I've ever had the misfortune to train."

Now that hurt her feeling as she shot back insolently: "I'm sorry, if I didn't fall under your seduction spell."

He quirked his eye brow at her retort: "I wasn't trying to seduce you."

"What? Yes you were!"

Michael just shook his head in denial, a small smile pulling at his lips. He stated softly: "No."

"So I was just imagining it? The way you would look at me or smile at me?"

She watched as he busied himself putting down the comb and straightening the items on the counter. A realization dawned on her and she whispered softly: "You couldn't help it."

His startled gaze met her softening look and he replied simply: "No."

They looked at each other's reflection for a long moment before she stood up and walked toward him. She cupped his beloved face gently and looked at him with all the love she felt within her. Michael pulled her close and kissed her gently, before deepening the kiss and drawing her in his arms.

Her heart was racing by the time the kiss ended and she looked at him with longing: "Make love to me, Michael."

His answer was reflected in his eyes before he swept her in his arms and took her to the bed. He whispered softly: "Yes."


	11. Day 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael and Nikita stumbles across some locals.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back from vacation...and here's a new chapter.

"Newlyweds?"

"Pardon?" Nikita looked at the woman seated to her right. They had rode down to Shreveport, Louisiana for the night and stumbled across a large crawfish broil stretching several blocks long. The entire town seemed to be there to celebrate and there were bands on several stages and lots of beer and a sticky sweet drink called Hurricane passed around.

Long tables were grouped together down the center of the road with buckets of broiled crawfish piled in the middle. People were sucking down the little shrimp like creatures at astronomical rates and tossing the shells in buckets lining the tables. She de-headed another crawfish, pushed her nail right above the tail to push the little bite size morsel out of the shell, and popped it into her mouth. Crawfish had the texture of lobster and the taste of a cross between shrimp and lobster. She had put away a good amount of the stuff already, and her hand was coated with the spice rub it was cooked in.

Nikita grabbed a hand full of napkins and tried to wipe as much of the juice away as she looked inquisitively at one of her many dinner companion. The woman looked pointedly to Michael seated next to her and asked again with a southern drawl: "Are you two newlyweds?"

"Um..no."

"Well, what's the matter with you then? You better snatch him up before the rest of the single gals who's got their eyes on him do."

Nikita turned and looked at Michael, who was conversing in French to an elderly Creole man. He was wearing the green shirt she'd picked out. It accentuated the breadth of his shoulders and made his eyes look even greener than usual. True to the woman's words, there were many sets of eyes on him as several women looked on and giggled amongst themselves.

She looked back at her curious neighbor and replied: "He's not that easy to pin down."

"Cagey is he? Well from the look of him, well worth the chase, am I right?"

She grinned in amusement before nodding emphatically: "Definitely."

"Lucky girl! I'm Barbara by the way. I would shake your hand, but then…" Barbara held up hands coated with the spice rub and shrugged.

"Nikita."

"Where are you from?"

"Australia originally."

Barbara looked again at Michael and replied: "I'm guessing he's not Australian."

"No, he's French."

"Oh-la-la! How long have you been in town?"

"We just got in actually and found the streets blocked off for this. We haven't even checked into a hotel."

"Try Luanne's Bed and Breakfast down the street. The rooms are nice and she makes a mean breakfast."

"Thanks for the tip."

"How do you like the crawfish?"

"It's delicious!"

"We do love crawfish season. How much longer are you going to be in town?"

"Not long, we're playing it by ear."

"Well maybe we'll run into each other again."

She smiled politely: "Maybe."

"I better let you get back to your hot Frenchman then. Don't want to leave an opening for the vultures circling."

Nikita couldn't help laughing in response. She turned her attention back to Michael, who had just concluded his conversation with the old Creole man in rapid fire French. It's always surprising to her how differently Michael sounds when speaking French. Instead of the soft tones with minimal inflection he normally used inside Section, he speaks faster and with more intonation stressing syllables. It also never failed to drive her wild listening to him speaks French.

"How many languages do you speak Michael?"

"A few." He smiled.

"Which ones, Michael?"

"French, German, English, Spanish, Italian, Chinese, Cantonese, Vietnamese, Portuguese, Farsi, and Arabic."

"Wow! Is that standard training?"

"Not really." At her quizzical look he supplied: "I have an ear for it."

"Is that why I wasn't taught more than rudimentary German and French?"

"It's hard to pass you off as anything other than English speaking, so your language training wasn't intensive."

She looked at him closely before prodding: "Are you being kind, Michael?"

The corner of his lips turned up as he added: "And also because you were a bad student."

"What!" She sputtered in indignation.

"How hard did you study and work at it?"

"But you said my scores were good."

"They were, in certain areas. In others you were abysmal."

"Like what?"

"It would take too long to list them."

"Michael!" She looked at him with a wounded expression.

He looked back blandly before smiling. She looked at him in wonder and asked in astonishment: "Are you teasing me, Michael."

"Just a little…"

She narrowed her eyes at him and replied: "I'm going to get you for this."

"Oh?" He peeled a crawfish and held it up to her lips as a peace offering. "Forgive me?"

She opened her mouth to accept the tasty morsel and chewed it slowly while looking into his beautiful eyes. It was hard swallowing it down since her mouth got dry all of the sudden. She whispered huskily: "I got a recommendation for where to stay tonight."

Michael stood up abruptly and held out his hand to her: "Shall we?"

She took his proffered hand and stood while eagerly replying: "Definitely."

They walked briskly away from the noise of the crowd, hands still clasped, and their hearts racing.


	12. Day 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Declarations are made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In honor of receiving my first Kudos, here's a new chapter!

Nikita ran her fingers along Michael sculpted chest, tracing the defined lines and feeling the smooth skin over hard muscles. His heartbeat was strong and steady under her ear as she lay on him. Nikita has always loved touching Michael. One of the drawbacks of hiding a relationship from Section was that she didn't get to touch him as often as she wanted.

It was always surprising how much Michael seemed to love being touched. Inside Section, his cold façade fairly shout out a warning to prevent people from getting within striking distance of him. Over the years, very few people had voluntarily reached out and physically touched him. About the only ones who seemed to were Madeline, Walter, and Chuck.

She had spent many hours obsessing over whether she had read possessiveness in Madeline's touch. Michael had never volunteered any information behind his relationship with Madeline, and she wasn't going to broach the topic. Besides, she really didn't want to know.

It was enough that Michael not only allows her touch, he seemed to welcome it. She caressed the smooth expanse of his chest and down along his side. He unexpectedly gave the smallest twitch when her fingers ran past his ribs. Experimentally, she stroked his side again and noticed another twitch.

She prop her chin on his chest and looked up at him and asked incredulously: "Michael, are you ticklish right there?"

His eyes were shuttered, revealing nothing as he responded blandly: "No."

"Really?" She looked at him mischievously as she responded: "What happens if I do this?" She proceeded to tickle his side in earnest and was rewarded by seeing him jump and laugh.

She sat up and looked at him in amazement: "Oh my god, you totally ARE ticklish there."

He held his hands up in surrender and replied: "Alright you win. Please don't tell anyone of that particular weakness."

"I won't. Anything else I should know about you?"

"Not particularly."

"Hmm." She looked at him speculatively. "This could be very helpful."

He looked back at her cautiously as he waited.

"I would like some answers, Michael and if you don't tell me the truth, I'll tickle it out of you." She held her fingers threateningly over his ribs.

"Okay?"

Her mind raced through all the questions she had always wanted to ask. Most were too intrusive to his privacy and she wasn't willing to pry. Memories of a long ago night came to the forefront.

"When Petrosian sent you to meet me at that bar, if I had said yes when you asked if you were under orders to please me, what would you have done?"

"Please you anyway I can."

"How would you feel about it?"

"At that time?"

"Yes."

"Conflicted."

"Because of Elena?"

"Partially."

"What else was there?"

Michael was quiet for a long moment as he thought of the answer. He finally responded: "I hesitated for the same reason why it took me so long to decide to pursue a relationship."

"You never did tell me what held you back."

He sighed as he caressed her shoulders before replying: "I've been in Section a long time Nikita. I know what they do if they sense a weakness."

"And I'm your weakness?"

He looked at her as he smoothed a finger along her cheek. "No, you're my strength."

As far as declaration of love goes, that was pretty phenomenal. It made her eyes mist in tears as she smiled radiantly at him. She sighed: "Michael, I love you."

He smiled at her in response and leaned in to kiss her. She kissed him back in earnest, desperate to taste him even after spending the day in bed. She plunged her hands in his silky curls and pulled him closer as she straddled him.

She pulled back with a gasp, gulping in air into her oxygen starved lungs. She moaned, as he kissed a path up her neck and nibbled her earlobe. She melted bonelessly against him as he pulled her closer.

She pushed him slightly back and he looked up curiously. She brushed her finger against his lips, which was reddened by their kisses. She felt the abdomen beneath her clinch in reaction to her touch. She was in awe that she had that kind of effect on him, that he could want her again as badly as she needed him.

"I can never get enough of you." She spoke from the depth of her soul, a fact she had long acknowledged to herself since the first time Michael really kissed her on that darkened barge. A truth she tried denying to herself to no avail.

Despite knowing that this has to and will end, and end badly, she was helplessly drawn to him. She had surrendered her heart to him long ago, and he had no interest in letting it go. She wasn't afraid of getting her heart broken since it will break the moment he walked out of her life forever. She was deeply afraid of how her betrayal will injure him instead. Michael did not trust easily, and she will be revealed as the most hurtful betrayer.

She blinked back tears and focused back to the present. To the beautiful man whose heart, for now, was in her safe keeping. Michael looked back at her with an open and honest expression, not hiding himself from her. She moaned in desire and gave in to the driving need for this man, her man.


	13. Day 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Playing tourists

"And if you look over at the mirror, you'll see what looks like a child's finger prints and the profile of a woman's face. We believe this is the ghostly impression of Sara Woodruff and her two daughters, who were poisoned by the family slave Chloe."

Their young tour guide couldn't be more than 15 years old, sporting long bangs he kept flinging back with a toss of his head. It's hard to believe in the haunted history yarn he's trying to spin when he looked like he should belong in a boy band. "If you follow me to the veranda…"

Nikita looked over at her companion who gave her a bland knowing look. She started cracking up and asked: "Do you want to get out of here?"

"Yes."

They separated from the group and walked outside to the courtyard. The grounds were serene with colorful Crepe Myrtles, the namesake of the Myrtles Plantation, brightening up the place. They made their way to the little snack bar and purchased cups of coffee and sat down at one of the many patio tables.

They quietly sipped their coffees as Nikita looked over her cup at Michael. He had accommodated her request to play tourist without complaint. They were close to Baton Rouge and Nikita gave into a sudden urge to tour the various plantations dotting the area.

They had already toured Oak alley, one of the largest plantation homes in the area. The large house was surrounded by acres of well manicured gardens and grounds with an impressive Oak Trees lined walkway leading to the house. They had a quiet picnic in the garden adjacent to the house and just enjoyed each other's company without the specter of Section looming over them.

Michael gave in to her excited suggestion to come to the Myrtles Plantation after brochures had touted it as one of the most haunted house in the U.S. Of course the impact of such a claim was lessoned once they met their tour guide, who was obviously still in high school and recited the tales like he was reciting from a book.

"I'm sorry; I shouldn't have dragged you here."

He magnanimously replied: "It's nice here."

"It's hard to believe people live like this with a large house and servants. I certainly never dreamt anything like this could be possible when I was growing up."

Michael didn't respond as he silently sipped his coffee. A thought occurred to her and she blurted it out before thinking it through: "What's was your childhood like?"

He paused with his coffee half way up to his mouth as he stared at her in surprise. He sat the cup down on the table and asked cautiously: "What do you want to know?"

She was surprised that Michael was willing to share his past with her. It was too good of an opportunity to pass up. "Well, for one thing, where were you born?"

"Marseilles."

"What did your parents do while they were still alive?"

"My father was an engineer and my mother was a music teacher."

"Did she teach you to play the cello?"

"Yes, amongst other things."

"What else do you play?"

"Piano and guitar."

Nikita remembered there was a piano in the house he shared with Elena. She had assumed Elena was the musician of the family. She should have realized once she found him playing the cello after the blood cover mission was over that the piano was his.

"Are you any good with the other instruments?"

He hesitated for a moment before admitting reluctantly: "I thought about pursuing a music degree."

She considered him thoughtfully for a long moment. She had always thought he had the air of a poet and artist. He certainly seemed comfortable playing the role whenever it was demanded of him as part of a mission. She had always thought it was because he was such a chameleon. Now she wondered if Madeline had written the profiles to suit him and what he must have been like before Section.

"Any other hidden talents I should know about? You're not also a painter or poet, are you?"

The corner of his lips quirked up in amusement at her exasperated tone: "No."

"Good. I'm starting to feel extremely lacking in the talent department."

"There's nothing lacking about you."

Nikita smiled at him and teased: "Your compliment overwhelms me."

He quirked his eyebrows in amusement and didn't respond back. She leaned close and kissed him in thanks before settling back in her chair. "Will you play for me sometimes, Michael?"

"If you like."

She smiled in response: "Ready to go?"

"Sure." He stood up and offered his hand. She took his proffered hand and they walked toward the motorcycle. She had the urge to never let him go and asking him to run away with her. She knew it was a selfish need since it would mean their certain deaths when discovered. Michael had risked his life time and again to keep her alive. It was almost time for her repay the debt.

They got to the motorcycle and left the plantation. She held tight to Michael's waist, leaning against his broad back and closed her eyes, uselessly dreaming of what could have been.


	14. Day 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The great French Quarters gastronomic tour.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I forgot to update last week. Instead, you'll get two chapters this week. Enjoy!

Nikita settled back in her seat with a sigh of contentment. She surveyed the destruction on the table in front of her with a twinge of remorse at her own gluttony. She had been unable to choose what she wanted to eat and had ordered one of everything on the menu. In the wreckage in front of her were the remains of seafood gumbo, Crawfish Ettouffee, Andouille sausage Jambalaya, oysters on a half shell, Muffalatta sandwich, shrimp po-boy sandwich, bread pudding, and banana fosters.

She rubbed her extended belly with a groan, feeling guilty that so much of it has been left. Of course, she might have made more of a dent in the smorgasbord if her dinner companion had helped her out more. She looked over at Michael who gazed back at her with amusement. He had tasted a little bit of everything before settling back at watching her attempt to eat her own weight in food.

"Has anyone ever told you, you eat like a bird?"

He replied dryly: "It's hard to run quickly on a full stomach."

She asked archly: "Going somewhere?"

"You never know."

She shook her head at his inability to break a habit. She looked up as her waitress returned and asked if to go boxes were needed. She looked inquisitively at Michael who shook his head. She apologized to the waitress who laughed off the apology. They paid the bill and Nikita waddled out of the restaurant into the narrow streets of the French Quarter.

They had arrived that morning and found a quaint hotel close to the French Quarter in New Orleans. After checking in, they had walked along the waterfront along Lake Pontchartrain for a while before they made their way to the French Quarter. First they stopped for beignets and iced coffees at Café Dumond, after which Nikita had dragged Michael into every knick knack store within a mile radius. He had obligingly held her various purchases without complaint, but had refused point blank when she insisted on getting him a souvenir t-shirt.

The more loaded down with purchase, the more he looked the part of a long suffering boyfriend. This was a very good thing, due to the amount of outrageous flirting that was thrown his way from people of either gender. It was still early in the day so the amounts of drunken cat calls were kept to a minimum. The few who attempted to approach her were warned off by a well placed look from Michael. Apparently her glares of warning were insufficient to ward off the bevy of attention toward Michael. Thankfully, no one dared to actually put a hand on Michael since their trip to the city might have been cut short.

"Now what?" She looked inquisitively over at Michael. He shrugged in response. She looked speculatively at him and teased: "If I hadn't eaten all that food, I'd suggest we go back to the hotel."

He looked at her for a moment and smirked: "It's hard to do a lot of things on a full stomach."

"Oh you! If I wasn't so full I'd smack you."

He just grinned in response. They walked companionably for a few more minutes until they passed a mostly empty bar. She noticed a piano against a wall and grabbed Michael's arm and led him inside. She went up to the bartender and got permission to use the piano. She turned back expectantly toward Michael.

"I haven't played in a long time, Nikita."

"Please Michael? You told me you would play for me."

He heaved a sigh, but gave in to her request and sat down in front of the keyboard. She sat down at a table perpendicular to the piano so that she could see him in profile. He lightly touched the keys, like a caress of an old treasured friend. He slowly played the scales, picking up speed as the notes get higher.

He stopped playing and looked down at his hands on his lap before placing them on the keyboard again. Then he started playing a slow sweet tune, drawing her in with the melody, the notes clear and bittersweet. As the last tender note fades away she clapped enthusiastically.

He looked up and smiled slightly at her before starting another song at a breathtaking pace. His fingers were a blur against the keys as they raced to the tune. She watched with mouth open, watching a piano virtuoso take over.

"He's quite good."

Nikita turned around to find a few customers had trickled in. The bartender who had given the okay to use the piano was standing to her right watching Michael play. At a particularly difficult bridge, the bartender amended his statement: "He's REALLY good. Does he play for an orchestra?"

"Um no, just recreationally."

"Wow! Tell him he can use it as long as he wants."

"Thanks I'll tell him that."

Michael finished the piece with flourish and looked up in surprise as several sets of applause joined Nikita. He nodded in thanks and stood up to join Nikita at the table.

"What are you doing? Keep playing if you want."

"That's okay."

She looked at him closely before asking in astonishment: "Michael, are you shy?"

He blinked in surprise at her question before refuting: "Of course not."

"You totally are! You're blushing!"

He narrowed his eyes at her: "No… I'm not."

"Okay you're not really blushing, but that doesn't mean I'm wrong."

"I just don't feel like playing anymore."

"Why not?"

He paused for a moment before replying: "It brings back memories."

"Good memories or bad ones?"

"What's the difference? The past is still the past."

She smiled sadly at him. "Okay, do you want to leave?"

"If you want…"

She waved her thanks to the bartender and they left. She wrapped her arm around his and leaned against him, enjoying the closeness physically and emotionally.


	15. Day 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quiet moments and revelations

A slight breeze ruffled the curtains, bringing in a scent of magnolia and the faint sounds of jazz playing in a nearby club. Nikita's attention was focused solely on the man sleeping beside her. She longed to reach out and touch him, but didn't want to wake him. Instead she feasted her eyes on him, free to do so without being observed by others or by Michael's too perceptive gaze.

Michael lay on his back with his head tilted facing her direction. His hair was getting longer and it was curling unruly from the humidity and from recent exertion. One arm was flung above his head, the palm exposed upward. She looked at that exposed hand, the artist hand roughened with callus from years of physical training and exercise. She followed the lines of his arm and noted the prominent veins on the muscular bicep and forearm.

She lovingly stared at the muscular shoulders and strong line of his neck up to his beloved face. In sleep, the tension and strict control over his facial expression was relaxed making him look younger and innocent. It was easy to forget how young Michael was when you see the maturity in his gaze forged by years of surviving Section's brutality. It made her sad to think that Michael must have been as young as she was, or perhaps even younger when he came to Section.

She mentally shook off the melancholy thoughts and took in his beautiful face. She stared love struck at the dark straight brows over deep set eyes with impossibly long, curly lashes, the high brows, straight line of his nose, to his sensual mouth. Without thinking, she brought her hand up to her mouth and ran her finger along her lips, remembering the feel of his lips against hers.

She dropped her gaze down to his broad shoulder, the well defined pectoral muscles, down to the flat ridge of his stomach. Unfortunately, the sheets were drawn up to his lower abdomen, shielding him from her gaze. Unconsciously, she bit her lips as she took in his sleeping form, remembering with relish what's under the sheets.

"What are you staring at?"

Nikita jumped at Michael's sudden question, believing he was deep in sleep. She looked up at his face to find him staring at her with a heavy lidded look. Since she's been caught, red-handed so to speak, she decided to tease him a bit. She tilted her head to the side and replied breezily: "I was just thinking how much older you look in the 7 years I've known you. Why I don't think I would have recognized you at all if I didn't know you so well."

Michael's eye brows shot up in surprise and a hint of amusement glittered in his eyes. He turned to his side and propped himself up on his elbow before replying dryly: "Should I start planning my retirement?"

"Definitely, from any and all seduction scenarios. I don't think the ladies will fall to their feet in worship of you anymore."

He smiled slightly before replying: "That wouldn't be so bad."

Something about the way he said it made her pause and consider him. Tentatively she broached a topic she had always been afraid to ask: "Do you mind playing the role of seducer for Section?"

She held her breath as Michael remained silent; worried that she had hurt him with the question. He finally admitted: "I never liked it." He paused for a beat before adding: "I barely tolerate it, couldn't really stomach it."

"How do you handle it then?" 

"I don't think about it. It's the only way I could function."

"And you've been successful in blocking it out?"

"Sometimes."

At her questioning look, Michael continued: "The longer the mission, the harder it is."

"Harder in what way?"

Michael rolled onto his back and looked up at the ceiling for a while before meeting her gaze again. "Harder to separate the person from the mission."

She hesitated for a long while before asking timidly: "Was it hard with Elena?"

Instinctively, Michael sought comfort from her by reaching out and taking her hand in his. He caressed her fingers and palm while he was deep in thought. He finally replied: "I didn't love her, but I respected her."

Reading between the lines, she supplied: "You didn't like hurting her."

"No. She deserved better than me."

She reached out and lovingly caressed his face. He looked up and met her gaze as she responded: "I got to know Elena, Michael. She was better off after knowing you."

"I ended up hurting her."

"Yes, but she was so happy when she was with you. She told me so herself, that you were the best thing to ever happen to her. She had no regrets for her life with you."

"It was all a lie, Nikita."

"She didn't know that. And it wasn't all a lie, Michael; I saw the way you were with her and with Adam. You genuinely cared for her and love Adam. Deny it all you want, I believe what I saw with my own eyes."

"Yes, I cared for her."

"See, Elena got to live a life she wanted with someone who cared for her. In fact I'm jealous of her."

"Why?"

"She's so innocent and so hopeful. She believed in the good of everyone, and you helped reinforce that innocence. Plus she got to spend all those years with you, marry you, and…" She choked back her next words.

Michael looked at her quizzically before prompting her: "And?"

"And she had your child." She couldn't conceal her own deepest desire, to be free to live openly with this man and have his babies. Dreams, however, were foolish inside Section. She had thought she had buried most of those dreams, but the longer she spends with Michael and this newfound closeness, the more those desires roared to life.

Michael looked at the miserable expression on her face and commanded her softly: "Come here."

She hesitated for the briefest moment before stretching out along his side. He wrapped his arms around her, stroking her hair, and laid gossamer kisses on her forehead.

"Let it go, Nikita. Let the pain go."

She started crying, softly at first, which turned to sobs. She wept, wailing her grief over cherished dreams that could never come true. He held her close, gently stroking her back as she cried over the hand dealt to her. He never let her go as she cried, not knowing that she was crying for more than lost dreams of happily ever after and family of her own. She was crying knowing that soon those strong arms around her would be gone and she would truly be alone.


	16. Day 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nikita gets her fortune told.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A new chapter just in time for Thanksgiving. It's getting close to the end. Thank you for reading.

Nikita sat back in her chair, laughing as a street musician attempted to woo her as he played his saxophone. There were music everywhere in New Orleans; you were never far from the strands of them within the French Quarter. The city was vibrant and full of a life of its own, so different from the sterile environment inside Section. She will miss the energy of the city and its inhabitants when they returned to Section.

That was the smallest part of what she would miss though. She turned her head to observe her companion. Michael was sipping another espresso, looking more relaxed than she's ever seen him. This didn't mean he was careless as he continuously swept the area for any potential threat. Sensing her eyes on him, he turned his attention to her and she was rendered momentarily speechless from the power of those eyes.

"I don't think I ever knew you were such a coffee-holic, Michael."

He gave her a small smile, but didn't respond. They sat in companionable silence for a while longer as they observed the tourists and locals enjoying the day. Night had fallen and various groups of tourists were passing by on different haunted history tours or vampire tours.

She had asked Michael several nights ago whether he wanted to go on one of the tours. He had merely given her a look and replied not especially. Since she still owed him after dragging him to see a haunted plantation tour given by a 15 year old wannabe Backstreet Boys, she decided not to push her luck.

They paid their tab and walked down some side streets, making sure to avoid the crowds on the main through fare. She had made the mistake of dragging Michael with her down Bourbon Street one night. Since the small street was relatively empty and tame during the day, she really didn't think it would be that bad at night.

She still didn't know how they made it out of there without getting arrested and leaving behind a trail of bodies. It was bad enough to be hit on by every drunken man-child on the street. It was ridiculous the amount of attention drawn to Michael. Men, women, hookers, and transvestites alike propositioned him, and quite a few outright tried to grab him. Fortunately for them, Michael's reflex was excellent and he managed to side step their advances. Had even one of them laid a finger on him, she was sure that would have been the last thing they ever did.

As if thinking about them conjured them out of thin air, a group of giggling drunken women turned the corner. The head of the group was wearing a veil, making it obvious this was a bachelorette party. The bride to be took one look at Michael and declared loudly: "That one! I'm going to have my last fling with that hot man."

The woman stumbled toward them and tried to throw her arms around Michael. Nikita grabbed the bride's arms before she could make contact. "Sorry ladies, he's already taken."

The woman pouted and pleaded: "Fine, just a kiss then. I'm getting married!"

"Sorry, I own those lips too." She shot a warning look toward the laughing bridal party and they dragged the bride away.

They continued walking in silence for a few minutes. Michael finally remarked with a wry tone: "You own my lips?"

Nikita glanced sideways at him and teased: "Yup, amongst other things."

He gave her an amused smile, which encouraged her to wrap her arm around his. They made their way toward the direction of the waterfront, away from the noise from the crowds. The area they were walking through was quieter, with most of the stores closed for the day.

Nikita's eyes were drawn to a small storefront with warm amber light peaking through the lace curtains. The elegant cursive words stenciled on the window said Madam LaRue's Divination. She clutched Michael's arm and excitedly exclaimed: "Let's get our fortunes read, Michael!"

Michael's eyebrows shot up as he gave her a surprised look. "I didn't think you believe in that kind of stuff."

"I don't, but it might be fun to pretend to have an uncomplicated life."

He smiled slightly before opening the door for her. They stepped inside to find a small front parlor with soft piano music playing and stain glass lamps and crystals positioned throughout the room. The curtains parted and an older woman with white hair and wizened features appeared. Her eyes were coated over with cataracts, appearing eerily white. While she may appear blind, those eyes focused with an intense impact on the two of them before gesturing them into the reading room.

They sat down at the small table, unadorned except for table cloth and a single deck of Tarot cards. The wizened lady sat down and fixed them both with an unnerving stare before speaking. "I'm Madam LaRue. I don't typically conduct joint reading, but I can read your fortunes individually. Who would like to begin?"

Nikita gestured toward Michael and spoke up: "Can you read his fortune first?"

"Yes." Madam LaRue shuffled the deck before asking Michael to cut the deck. He did so and she turned the cards over in a configuration.

Nikita watched in shock as she turned over a Hanged Man, two Death cards, Strength card, and the Chariot card.

Madam LaRue pursed her lips as she examined the cards. She pointed at the Hanged Man card and spoke: "This is Le Pendu. It speaks to devotion to a worthy cause, of sacrifices in the present to reap benefits in the future. There will be a rebirth, where everything will turn on its head. This speaks of transformation, of sacrificing one thing to obtain another."

She pointed at the two Death cards lying side by side. The first card was upside down, while the second faced the opposite direction. "This is La Mort. There will be painful and unpleasant changes. There will be an agonizing period of transition, where you might succumb to mental, physical, or emotional exhaustion." She pointed to the second Death card: "Hope is not lost though. This is the beginning of a new life, an abrupt and major change."

Next, she pointed at the card with the picture of a person and a lion: "La Force is a good sign. It speaks of courage, self control, the power of love, determination, generosity, resolve and reconciliation."

Madam LaRue gestured to the final card and spoke: "Le Chariot signify triumph over adversity, overcoming life's obstacles, a period of struggle ending in success."

Madam LaRue paused for a moment as she stared silently at the cards. Finally she raised her head and looked directly at Michael. "I see so much death surrounding you, but there's hope. The thing you want the most will happen. I see…a son, your son. You will get to see him grow up and you will be able to raise him and he will be a credit to you."

They both looked at the woman speechlessly, shocked into silence. The wizened woman came out of her trance before gathering the cards and shuffling the deck. She silently offered the cards to Nikita for her to cut the deck. Nikita tentatively did as bidden, extremely nervous about what her fortune might reveal. She glanced over at Michael, whose stoic mask had slipped a little revealing that he was shaken by what the elderly lady had said about Adam.

She looked back as the woman laid out the cards: the tower, the fool, the lovers, emperor, and judgment card. Madam LaRue stared at the cards for a moment before pointing at the card with the tower on it and shaking her head: "La Maison Dieu is in a reversed direction. This denotes restriction of desires and imprisonment. There will be drastic changes that may rob you of freedom of expression and imprisonment within a set of circumstances which cannot be altered."

Nikita shot an ironic glance at Michael, who quirked his eyebrow up in response. They turned back at Madam LaRue gestured to the Fool card: "Le Mat speaks to the beginning of a new journey, overturning of the status quo by unexpected happenings. It also speaks of important decisions to be made."

Nikita's breath caught in her throat at the elderly woman's reading. It struck too close to home and to what will happen once her long undercover assignment was over. She glanced over at Michael and wondered whether his reading reflected the future he would have once Mr. Jones' plan was set in place.

Madam LaRue pointed at the Lovers card and again shook her head: "L'Amoureux, placed with these other cards, denotes some form of test, possibly a struggle between two paths."

Next she pointed at the Emperor card: "L'Empereur denotes authority, power, and ambition."

She gestured to the last card: "This is the most important card. Le Judgement speaks of fear of change and sometimes fear of death. There may be loss and separation, guilt, a lack of progress on an important decision."

Again, the elderly woman fell silent, communing with an unseen power. She opened those pale milky eyes and fixed Nikita with an all seeing stare: "You will sacrifice much for what you believe in and you will realize too late that you gave up on what truly mattered."

Nikita felt the hair stand up on the back of her neck. It felt like the woman was giving her a direct warning against the path she was currently on. She looked again at Michael and knew that she was on the right path. In order for him to be free to raise Adam, she would have to give him up.

They thanked the woman, paid her, and left quickly. Madam LaRue followed them out the door and called out toward Michael: "Monsieur, once you get the chance to get what you most want, don't ever look back."

Michael nodded politely to the woman and softly replied: "Merci."

They silently made their way back, engrossed in thoughts. Both afraid to speak of their hopes and fears, worried that once given voice, they may come true, the good and the bad.


	17. Day 15 - Alternate Ending 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I decided to play around with alternative endings since after this episode in LFN was the beginning of the end.
> 
> Day 15 – Endings - How it could have ended:

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thank you for reading.

"You will sacrifice much for what you believe in and you will realize too late that you gave up on what truly mattered."

Nikita tossed and turned in bed, the words of Madam LaRue running endlessly through her head. She jerked forward with a gasp then buried her head in her hands. She had a feeling that what she decides to do next, will impact the path she would take.

Michael sat up and gently caressed her shoulder before asking: "What's wrong?"

She looked up to meet his concerned stare and leaned forward to be wrapped in his arms. She closed her eyes as she leaned against the strength of his body, feeling like she could tackle any obstacle as long as he was besides her.

Unbidden tears gathered in her eyes at the thought of being parted from him forever. She drew back from his embrace and met his eyes. She shook her head vehemently and whispered brokenly: "I can't do it Michael, I can't go back."

He reached forward and stroked her eyebrow and replied softly: "You have to."

She leaned against the headboard and wrapped her arms around her legs. "I can't go back, Michael. I've given them as much as I could."

He was silent as he studied her, realizing that she was completely serious. "What are you saying?"

"Let's just go and never look back."

"They'll hunt us down."

"As long as we're together, I don't care if I live much longer."

"They'll use everything in their power to bring us back in."

"I know."

Michael stared off into the distance silently for several long minutes. He was like a living statue, he was so still. Finally he spoke, speaking so softly she had to lean forward to catch what he was saying. "Your implant is off-line already, we'll have to remove mine and the secondary tracker."

She couldn't believe what she was hearing at first and sat in stunned silence. When his words finally registered in her mind, she launched toward him, laughing in happiness. She kissed him with all the love in her heart and he held her tight.

*******************

6 months later…

She unloaded the grocery from the truck and made her way to the cabin. She checked to make sure all the security was still engaged before making her way inside. The cabin was the latest in a long series of safe houses they've been staying at since they left Section.

They had come perilously close to capture 2 months ago, and she was still healing from the bullet wounds. She had hoped that Section would stop using so many resources to bring them back in after all that time, but she had underestimated Section and Center's determination. She would not make that mistake again as she was not yet ready to shuffle off this mortal coil.

She made her way to the bedroom and quietly peaked in to check on the sleeping inhabitants. Adam was curled on his stomach, his little rump stuck on in the air and he slept soundly. She smiled bitter sweetly before closing the door gently.

She leaned her cheeks against the door for a long moment, remembering with shock at the ruthlessness of Section to use a little boy against his father. They hadn't care that Adam and Elena were innocents when they set up the trap to lure Michael and her to save them. She still didn't know whose bullet ended the life of the gentle Elena, if it was hers or Michael's or one of the many operatives Section sent. All she knew was that she would carry the guilt of Elena's death as well as the trauma done to Adam at seeing his mother gunned down in front of his eyes.

She made her way back to the kitchen to begin preparing for dinner. She was so engrossed in her task she did not hear him approach. Strong arms wrapped around her waist and a soft voice blew against her ear: "What's for dinner?"

She turned around to kiss him. She leaned back just to look at him for a moment, a pastime she was never tired of. She still wasn't used to the short hair cut he had adopted to fit more in with the rest of the populace. Similarly, it still shocked her sometimes to see herself in the mirror and see the dark brown hair. They had altered their looks to draw less attention to themselves, and also to pass off more as a family to explain Adam's dark hair.

She realized she had been looking at Michael for a few minutes with what was surely a love struck expression on her face. He just smiled in amusement at her for not answering his question. As she started to answer him, the smile faded from his face and he listened intently for a moment. She drew quiet as Michael checked the laptop to see if there were any activities showing by the security sensors.

They both heard distant sounds of a helicopter; the sound drew closer before veering away. She smiled overly brightly as she turned back to the dinner preparation. She chatted with false enthusiasm, pretending that the ever present danger of their situation wasn't wearing her down.

*****************************

Many, many years later…

Sometimes the memories flitted at the edge of his consciousness, just out of his grasp. No matter how hard he tried to grab hold, the memories slip away like water through fingers.

There were stories told to him by his foster parents. They told him that his parents died in a traffic accident when he was 4. He always doubted that story though. He had vague recollections that didn't add up together.

He remembered his mother's tears running down from her brown eyes as she mourned the death of his father and grandfather. He had recollection of a dark warehouse where he and his mother were taken. He remembered how tightly she held him in her arms as she begged their captors for freedom and explanation. He remembered the sheer joy at seeing his father again. The joy didn't last long as the warehouse erupted in gunfire. When it was finally quiet once again, his mother laid dead next to him.

He remembered being numb by pain and being coaxed back to life by his father's patient green eyes. He remembered a beautiful blonde woman who was kind to him and sang him lullabies. He remembered a brief period of happiness as he felt safe and protected in their care.

He remembered the horrible night when the quiet was once again disrupted by men in black carrying machine guns. He remembered the air exploding and fire erupting, releasing plumes of black smoke into the air. He remembered being shoved onto the ground by his father and feeling his father jerk by the impact of several bullets. He also remembered tears pooling in the blonde hair woman's bright blue eyes, eyes screaming in pain as they watched the bullets cut down his father, and finally those eyes turned glassy as the life drained out of them.

Finally, he remembered a cold white room and a brown hair woman with cold eyes looking at him. She told him it was all a nightmare and that he will forget everything. He didn't forget like he should have though, some things were etched too deeply into his conscience to ever forget.

So he keeps grasping for those elusive memories, digging into his past as he tried to find the answer. Until one day he finally found his answer.

 

He opened his eyes to find eerily familiar bright white walls surrounding him. He jerked upright when he see the woman seated in the corner. She had white hair instead of brown, and her face was more lined by age. There was no mistaking those cold brown eyes though.

The woman begin speaking coldly: "I can't say I'm happy to see you here, Adam."

"Why am I here?"

"You came too close to uncovering the truth. We had to make a choice to either cancel you or make use of you."

"What does that mean? Where am I?"

"This is Section One. This is where you'll train. This is where you'll learn. After 2 years, if everything goes well, you'll work for us."

"Why me?"

She smiled an unreadable smile that was devoid of warmth. She walked toward the door and coldly ignored his question: "We start tomorrow at 5 A.M."

The loud metallic clang of the door seemed to release the buried memories. They washed over him like a tidal wave, threatening to bury him alive. He looked around the cold walls and realized he had been buried alive. Softly he wept for his mother, father, the beautiful blonde hair woman, but mostly he cried for what could have been.


	18. Day 15 – Endings - Another way it could have ended:

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dream ending

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a new chapter for the week. Just one more chapter to go. Thank you for joining me on this ride.

"You will sacrifice much for what you believe in and you will realize too late that you gave up on what truly mattered."

Nikita tossed and turned in bed, the words of Madam LaRue running endlessly through her head. She jerked forward with a gasp then buried her head in her hands. She had a feeling that what she decides to do next, will impact the path she would take.

Michael sat up and gently caressed her shoulder before asking: "What's wrong?"

She looked up to meet his concerned stare, shook her head and buried her face in the palms of her hands again. He ran soothing hands down her back, wordless offering comfort. She closed her eyes, enjoying the strength and care he provided, feeling like she could tackle any obstacle as long as he was besides her.

The doubts, uncertainty, and her duplicity over the last few years whirled in her mind. Those thoughts mocked her that he would turn his back if he ever knew what she was really doing. She looked up at Michael, into those eyes that were open and unguarded. She didn't deserve his love and trust. What she will have to do will destroy the bond they had spent years building and may scar Michael for life.

No, she could not lead him down this path blindly without warning just to pull the rug out from under him. She had made a decision on his life for him, and it was time to offer him the choice to make his own decision.

She leaned back against the head board and wrapped her arms around her legs. "Michael, I have something to tell you."

"Yes?"

She took a deep fortifying breath before replying: "I've been working for Center as a mole for the last 3 years."

Michael's eyes were unreadable as he kept silent at her announcement. She went on to describe how Center found her while she was hiding from Section after he had warned her to escape. They had trained her in various tracing and hacking programs to prepare her for a life as a double agent inside Section. She explained about Center's attempt to draw Section's attention by 'leaking' her location to the Freedom League. She told him about escaping from her abductors since she wasn't about let herself be raped.

Once she was out of the Freedom League's control, she had to find another way into Section. She had shown up at the ambush site prepared to draw the attention of Section personnel and use them to take her back in. She hadn't counted on it being Michael, however, and fled on an impulse.

"I need to tell you, Michael that I never purposely drew close to you as part of the undercover assignment."

Michael had sat silent through her entire story, not betraying a single thought. He finally spoke: "You weren't ordered to get close to me?"

She shook her head adamantly: "No, never. In fact, it probably made my assignment harder."

He was quiet for a long while before asking: "Why are you telling me this?"

"My assignment is almost over."

"What aren't you telling me?"

"Mr. Jones wants to cancel you."

"Because I've betrayed Section for you?"

"That's the excuse he gave. I won't let him do this, Michael."

"What can you do?"

"I'll make sure you get sent on an abeyance operation so you can escape."

Michael gave a small ironic smile at her announcement. "Can I ask when this event shall take place?"

"Any day now. Michael, we have to do something."

He quirked his eyebrow at that and asked: "I thought you have it all planned out."

"I don't want to go through with this." She bit her lips before continuing: "I don't want to live without you."

He looked at her intensely for a moment before reaching out and caressing a finger along her eyebrow. She closed her eyes and sighed in relief and pleasure, the weight of this enormous secret lifted from her chest at long last.

She opened her eyes and met his intense glance. She spoke from the depth of her soul the truth that was the foundation of her being: "Michael, I love you."

He didn't respond, but the intensity of his stare lessoned and warmed in response. He drew her into his arms and kissed her deeply. She grabbed onto his shoulder desperately, intensely needy to reestablish the close bond they had forged the past few weeks. They came together, without deception or lies, just with the soul deep passion that burned endlessly between them.

 

Nikita lay in Michael's arms, deeply content and in peace at long last. She knew whatever she had to do next, she wouldn't be alone. She propped her chin on his chest and looked up at his face. He was deep in thought as he absently stroked her shoulder.

"What are we going to do, Michael?"

"What do you want most, Nikita?"

"Truthfully? To be free with you by my side."

He met her gaze for a moment before smiling: "Okay."

"Okay?"

"We'll have to sink our files and fake our deaths so they can't track us."

She asked hopefully: "Us?"

"Of course."

"Is that what you want, Michael? You don't want to lead Section?"

"I never wanted to lead Section."

He shook his head when she started to question him. "I never did."

"What about Adam?"

"He's with his mother. As long as people think I'm dead, there's no reason to go after them."

Nikita stared at Michael for a while before responding: "You've been thinking about this for a while haven't you?"

"Since I decided I wanted to live instead of merely survive inside Section."

"When was that?"

He reached out and caressed her cheek before replying softly: "When you convinced me to find a reason to live."

She melted at his words knowing that if she wasn't in love of him before that statement, she would be head over heels by now. "Okay, what do we do now?"

**********

Operations paced furiously inside the perch and barked out an order at Comm: "I want an update as soon as possible. I want to know what went wrong and whose fault it was. I want answers NOW!"

Quinn: "Right away sir."

Madeline walked quietly into the perch and stood back and watched Operations pace. He shot a glare her direction before barking out: "Well?"

"It appears the explosion was triggered by a shadow program undetectable to our analysts."

"How is that possible?"

"It's brand new technology never seen before."

"That's your excuse? It's brand new? We lost two of our best operatives in that explosion!"

"I'm aware of that."

"Has the DNA results come back?"

"Yes, they were a match to Michael and Nikita."

"Could it be possible that they made it out alive?"

"I ran the Sim. There's a 0.1 percent chance of survival."

"Damn! George and Mr. Jones are breathing down my neck about this. I want the report ready to submit to them before the end of the day."

"It will be ready."

"That will be all."

********************

Many, many years later…

She unloaded the grocery from the truck and made her way to the farmhouse. She checked to make sure all the security was still engaged before making her way inside. The farmhouse was the last in a long series of safe houses they stayed at since they left Section.

Although they never lifted their guard and kept ever vigilant, Section had never sent operatives after them. It appeared the mission death ruse worked perfectly and Section never realized they had escaped. Even if they had realized it, they couldn't have traced them. Michael had sunk their files and replaced it with dummy profiles filled with seemingly innocuous information that would skew any search generated.

She looked around at the scenic beauty of the old growth forest around her and sighed happily. They had finally set down roots after 3 years of constantly moving. She had finally put her foot down, told him he was being paranoid, and demanded they stay put for more than a few weeks at a time. It helped that she was 7 months pregnant and extremely cranky at the time. Michael had given in gracefully in defeat and settled them to this rural area just outside of Montreal.

She made her way into the farmhouse both arms loaded down with grocery. She called out: "Walter, help me with the groceries."

A curly chestnut haired teenager bolted out of the living room and grinned at her as he made his way out to the car. She looked back at her first born, always stunned by how much he was growing to resemble his father.

She made her way to the kitchen and sat down the bags. In the living room Roberta and Seamus were battling each other on a Wii game. She called to the kids to turn down the volume as she made her way to the office.

She peaked into the office and smiled at the sight of her gorgeous man seated in front of the laptop. They were both older now with more gray hairs and wrinkles. While she frets about every new line that appears on her face, on Michael she could only stare in wonder. He had taken to growing out a short beard, which were dotted with gray hair. That and the gray hair around his temples made him look even more devastatingly handsome.

He wears reading glasses now, which was now perched on the edge of his nose as he peered at the computer. Glasses that their youngest was busy attempting to reach and take hold off. The little blonde hair girl on his lap has her blue eyes, but her father's curly hair. She also had adorable dimples when she smiled and a small dip in her chin modeled after her father's.

Helen noticed her peaking from behind the door and reached out toward her: "Mama!"

Michael looked up, not betraying any surprise, revealing that he knew she had been standing by the door staring, and most likely drooling at the sight of him. He smiled warmly at her as she came forward to kiss him and their little girl. He reached out and gently caressed her eyebrow as they wordlessly reaffirmed their bond.

The tender moment was interrupted by a loud crash in the living room and a chorus of voices: "Mom!"

"You better go see what that's all about."

She frowned at him and pouted: "How come they never ask you to referee?"

He shrugged: "They don't like my judgment calls I guess."

She grinned at him: "I'd say. Your last punishment resulted in the boy chopping wood for a month and had Roberta crying for a week."

He grinned impishly: "They got off easy."

She narrowed her eyes suspiciously: "You did that on purpose so they don't bother you didn't you?"

He was saved from answer by another loud crash and another chorus of voices calling for her. "You better go see what's going on before they tear the house down."

She left but glared warningly back at him over her shoulder: "This discussion isn't over."

Michael bounced the toddler on his lap making her laugh in glee, a sight that melted her heart even further. He replied to her threat with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes: "I look forward to it."

Something tells her that she would really enjoy the upcoming discussion. She sighed in anticipation and left to tend to her destructive children.


	19. Day 15 - Ending

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alas, this is the true ending. It conforms to the LFN episodes and also to the overall tone of the story. Thank you for hanging in there and completing this journey with me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One last chapter in time for the holidays. Thank you for reading.

"You will sacrifice much for what you believe in and you will realize too late that you gave up on what truly mattered."

Nikita tossed and turned in bed, the words of Madam LaRue running endlessly through her head. She jerked forward with a gasp then buried her head in her hands. She had a feeling that what she decides to do next, will impact the path she would take.

Michael sat up and gently caressed her shoulder before asking: "What's wrong?"

She looked up to meet his concerned stare and leaned back against the head board, wrapping her arms around her raised knees. She tilted her head back and closed her eyes, attempting to erase memories of the dream.

Michael gave her the space she needed and waited patiently for her to respond to his question. She wanted nothing more than to tumble into his arms and feel the strength of his body against hers. She wanted to unburden her secret to him and tackle any obstacle as long as he was besides her. She kept silent fearful that he would turn away from her. Like so many things she's lost over the years, she had lost the courage to dream the impossible dream.

A heavy silence stretched between them, threatening to tear the closeness of the bond they had forged over the last few weeks. She opened her eyes to find Michael patiently waiting, with calm eyes that nevertheless betrayed concerns for her. She couldn't tell him her secret assignment, but she could share some of what's been bothering her the past year.

She sighed and answered: "I'm afraid to go back, Michael. I feel like I finally found a piece of myself once again over the last weeks. I don't want that feeling to go away."

He patiently asked: "What are you afraid of?"

"I don't feel like myself any more. I feel…lost."

He didn't respond, but silently encouraged her to continue. "I feel like the longer I've been inside Section and the more I compromise and adapt to survive, I also loose myself in the process. I didn't even realize how much I had changed until…"

He prompted: "Until?"

"Until Helmut."

She was afraid her announcement would hurt him, but Michael calmly looked back her waiting for an explanation. She hurried to reassure him: "I didn't love him, Michael."

"I know."

"He…reminded me of myself, or at least how I used to be. I used to be that idealistic, that sure of right from wrong. The longer I'm in Section the more the lines blur."

She shook her head wryly and continued: "Madeline used to say shades of gray, now all I see are just that. I don't even think I could distinguish the correct path versus the Section way."

"The essence of you is still there, Nikita. You haven't lost that."

She met his steady gaze, amazed that he could be so sure when all she had was doubt. "How can you be so sure?"

"I see you. I see the conflict you face every day as you struggle to survive in Section. You wouldn't have such a hard time if you weren't still hanging on."

Nikita was startled not only by the length of Michael's speech, but also to the faith he held for her. A faith that she would betray when she revealed she had been lying to him for so many years.

Lost in thought she said quietly: "I use to tell myself I wasn't really committing murder as long as I kill in combat. I once told Madeline that I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I killed in cold blood."

She met Michael's gaze and continued: "When I went to save Helmut from the Section team, I took them all out without a second thought. I even knew one of them, Chris, I went on several missions with him and exchanged greetings and jokes. They hesitated when they saw me and I used that advantage to take them out. They would have engaged in a firefight had it been a stranger."

Nikita was lost in memory for a long while, her stomach twisted tight at the recollection. She forced herself to continue: "I thought I would be sick afterwards, but I felt nothing, no remorse or regret, just a big fat nothing."

For the first time she started her confession Michael spoke up: "You were injured, Nikita, you were in shock."

"What about afterwards?"

"You were on pain medication to numb the pain."

"You can't explain it all away, Michael."

"I'm not trying to."

She looked at him thoughtfully for a moment before rashly asking: "How did you react the first time you had kill in cold blood?"

Other than a slight widening of his eyes, he did not react visibly to her question at all. Softly he replied: "The first time I threw up afterwards and I couldn't look at myself in the mirror."

She was shocked at his admission; she couldn't picture him having a hard time dealing with anything. She asked tentatively: "And now?"

"It got easier after that."

Sensing something he wasn't saying she pressed on: "Did it really get easier?"

His lips twisted slightly in a wry smile: "I don't think about it."

She was quiet as she went over his words. Something he had said caught her attention and she questioned him: "You said you couldn't look at yourself in the mirror afterwards."

Knowing what she was asking for, he replied: "I still can't."

Sometimes it's too easy to pretend that Michael came to be like this fully formed, without going through the mental, physical, and emotional wounds he must have received over the years. That he survived with his sanity intact was a tribute to his strength.

She thought about what Michael said and the implication behind them. To turn away from his own reflection, to be disgusted by it, revealed to her how unbearable life inside Section was for him. No matter the outcome, and the risk to herself, she was determined that he would be freed. She just wished she could be there to help him heal.

She looked into Michael's eyes. They could be cold, unfeeling, and concealing everything. This morning they were open, baring his wounded soul to her without reservation. It was her turn to mask her turmoil and deception. She revealed the love for him that she couldn't hold back, couldn't keep concealed from him.

"Please hold me, Michael."

He obliged, wrapping his strong arms around hers. She breathed in his spicy, intoxicating scent, reveling in this small window of opportunity to be together. All too soon that window would slam shut with her trapped on the opposing side from where she wanted to be, by his side.

**********************************

The elevator hummed as they descended deep underground into Section. They stood on opposite sides of the elevator, mindful of the ever present cameras inside Section. They couldn't resist looking greedily at each other, drinking in the sights of their beloved's form.

The elevator door swings open, revealing the bright walls of the transport corridor. They proceeded silently into Section, blank masks firmly in place to face the unwelcomed reality. Before they parted, he to his office and her to Madeline's, they brushed their palms against each other in the lightest caress. It was one last affirmation of their love and devotion to one another in this cold, ruthless world.

The end.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments greatly appreciated!


End file.
